


impossible, extraordinary things

by seren_ccd



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, I DON'T EVEN GO HERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren_ccd/pseuds/seren_ccd
Summary: "Anyway!  Selkies.  They’re real and they’re scrappers, can I just say.  I mean, you need someone who’s not afraid to play dirty and pull hair, they’re your girls.  And guys.  They’re a few guys, but mostly ladies.  We bonded," Caroline says over the phone.“I can only imagine,” Klaus says picturing her running through crashing waves, her hair a golden fan around her face as she laughs.  He imagines that her skin tastes of salt and he burns.Caroline sees the world and Klaus definitely doesn't wait for the phone to ring.  Future fic, Klaus/Caroline





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even go here and yet, here we are. This is set very firmly in some kind of nebulous future and I clearly have no control over anything in my life. Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Any quotes by Carl Sagan, Lewis Carroll, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and The Princess Bride are not mine.

"Did you know that frozen blood is kind of gross and should not actually be considered sustenance?"

"Caroline." Klaus breathes out and on his inhale he could almost smell citrus and sunlight but he recovers quickly. "It's been some time since I had to resort to frozen blood, but I do recall it being less than filling.” Wind howls on her end. “Love, where are you?"

"Nepal," she says and she sounds happy and slightly smug. "I'm at the smallest airport in the world with the deadliest runway. Well, according to this thing I saw on the Discovery Channel, it's the second most deadly runway, but it's pretty intense."

"And what has taken you to Nepal?" he asks.

She hums and his skin tingles at the sound. "You promise not to laugh?"

"Cross my heart, love," he says and she snorts.

"Cute," she says before she pauses. "I found yetis."

For a moment, he wonders if he heard wrong or if there was a problem with the connection, but he rallies. "Come again?"

"Yetis!" she practically squeaks. "They exist! They're basically this troop of gorillas that somehow made their way into the Himalayas and have stayed there. They're...incredible. Pure white. Very fuzzy. And they move so slowly. And they're heartbeats." She sighs. "Remember how you told me about the hummingbird?"

"Of course," he says, drunk on her voice and the sheer enthusiasm he hears.

"This is like that, but their heartbeats are like the deepest base and one thump bleeds into the next and God," she breathes in. "They were magnificent. And they're _real_. Did you know about them?"

"I have to admit, love, that it never occurred to me to go looking for something that was supposed to be a myth," he says.

She snorts again and he smiles. "Klaus, _we're_ supposed to be myths. And clearly, you were mythtaken." She giggles madly. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to say that?”

Klaus chuckles. "Love, the altitude is clearly having an effect on you.”

"Oh, it so is," she says. "I feel light as a feather up here."

"I sincerely hope you're not existing on frozen blood bags," he says. "How do yetis taste?"

"Jerk, I didn't trek all the way up here to eat them!" she says. "I hunted down some elk." She hesitates. "It tasted amazing."

"Fresh kills always do," he says remembering a winter spent in Lapland and how the blood ran like warm whiskey down his throat.

"Speaking of," she says. "How goes your rampage?"

"Swings and roundabouts, love," he says. "Eternal swings and roundabouts. But you'll be pleased to know that I haven't murdered anyone in a rage in months."

"Well, give the big bad hybrid a gold star," she says wryly. "Oh look, the deathtrap has arrived, aka my flight out."

"Caroline," he says. "What are you doing?" 

( _Why did you call me? Why haven't you come to me? Why are you alone when you don't have to be?_ )

"I'm seeing the wonders of the world, Klaus," she says, her voice warm and breathy. "I'm on a magical mystery tour of my own making."

"And where to next, if I may be so bold to ask?" he asks, hoping he doesn't sound as though he's pleading.

"Well, since I’ve had such luck finding yetis, I’m going to see if I can find a minotaur. I always liked that myth," she says and he hears the grin in her voice. "I'll let you know if I find one."

"If anyone could, it would be you, darling," he says.

"Thank you," she says and there's a pause and he can see her biting her lip before she says, "Be well, Klaus."

"Not 'be good'?" he replies.

"I try not to ask for impossibilities," she says. 

"You could," he says. "You should."

"Small steps," she says her voice somehow warm despite the distance.

"Safe travels, love," he says.

"Bye, Klaus," she says and then quickly hangs up.

Klaus sits in his study, his phone still pressed to his ear and wishes for a dial tone. There are times he hates modernity and all of its quick and silent ways. A telephone should have a dial tone. It should be humming in his ear. That hum would be proof that he'd just had a conversation, a connection, instead of the mocking silence. 

He’s had far too much silence from Caroline over the years and he hates it.

He knew she left Mystic Falls five years ago and he knows that she took up residence in Boston, of all places, and he also knows that it’s been ten entire years since he’s seen her in the flesh.

Klaus sets his phone down and goes to the window and stares down at the square and thinks of Lewis Carroll and the White Queen and wishing for six impossible things before breakfast.

He’s had one already occur, it’d be a shame to ignore the possibility of another five.

* * *

He misses her next call due to a minor flare-up with the werewolves, and honestly, he’s not sure if he’s angrier about the werewolves overstepping or missing her call.

However, his mood is calmed by the message she leaves:

“I’m seriously disappointed, I haven’t found a single minotaur and I’ve looked everywhere. However, you know what I’ve discovered is eternal and has transcended cultures, nations, time and space? Dick jokes. I’m not kidding. Every single culture on this planet always resorts to dick jokes. I’m touring frickin’ ancient Roman ruins and there are actual dick jokes on the walls. I honestly can’t even.”

She takes a breath.

“I hope you’re well. I’m off to find Atlantis and I swear, if I find it and there are dick jokes underwater, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

She pauses again, then hangs up.

He listens to the message again. And then again. And again. And then he stops counting.

* * *

Klaus is walking along the train tracks near the New Orleans Aquarium when his phone rings. Sated from a lovely snack of a couple from France (and yes, there’s a distinct difference, a cleaner, richer flavour on the palate compared to Americans), he answers even though there’s a lack of caller id.

“Well, I couldn’t find Atlantis,” she says, “but I did find Tartessos. Maybe.”

“Off the Iberian Peninsula?” he asks, his lips already curving into a smile.

“If you tell me that you’ve already been there, done that,” she warns.

“Hardly,” he says leaving the train tracks and heading towards the Riverwalk. “It was already a myth before I was on the scene. What did it look like?”

“Sand and fish, mostly,” she says and he can hear the seagulls and the surf in the background. “But, I don’t know… You know how some places have a lived in feeling to them? How houses can feel alive?”

He thinks of New Orleans the city as a whole and his mansion in Mystic Falls. “I do indeed know what you mean.”

“This had that,” she says and he imagines her sitting on a beach, staring at the Mediterranean, wearing very little, a glass of wine nearby. “It was lovely. Peaceful, even. As though it was sleeping.”

“Caroline,” he says.

“Klaus,” she replies, her voice not quite asking a question, but not mocking him either.

“What are you doing?” he asks coming to a stop at a railing as he stares at the barges on the Mississippi.

“At this very moment? Drinking some very nice rosé.”

He knew it. (Although, rosé? When that far south on the Iberian Peninsula it should be red or nothing.)

“I meant the question more broadly,” he says, though he’s smiling.

“I got a degree in International Politics,” she says quickly.

He pauses. “I know.”

“I bet. Well, it seemed like a good choice and I figured that if I could survive supernatural politics, human politics would be a breeze,” she says. “Naturally, it turns out that humans are just as capable of bloodshed and jackassery as vampires, werewolves and witches.”

“Oh my,” Klaus adds.

“Don’t be cute,” she says, but he hears a smile anyway. “In any case, I got a degree, I worked a few places, I wrote a few articles for journals – “

“I read them,” he interrupts.

She makes a sound, a breath caught in her throat. He hears her swallow. 

“You’ll have to tell me what you thought of them sometime,” she says hesitantly.

“I would love to,” he says and the sincerity is heavy in his mouth.

“Okay. So, before I know it, a few years have passed, I still look seventeen, and I started getting invitations to reunions and weddings and christenings and, God, all these _events_ that mean so much to people and used to mean so much to me and it occurred to me that I wrote about nations that I’d never even seen,” she says all in a rush. “And that there’s all this history that I only know from books and there’s so much out there and… I know I probably sound ridiculous-“

“Not possible,” he says.

“Oh, my God, stop that, I mean it,” she says laughing. “You’re messing up my flow.”

“Apologies, love,” he says smiling as he leans fully on the rail, breathing in the scent of rain as it makes its way across the river. “You were saying?”

“I was _saying_ that if _I_ exist, what else exists?” she says. “So much of politics is determined by such short-sighted people. And I spent so much of my human life with tunnel vision. I refuse to do that anymore. So, I’m exploring the unknown.”

“You think I’m short-sighted?” he asks after a beat.

“Way to make this all about you, buddy,” she says snickering. “And no, actually, I think you are the most long-sighted person I know. But that has its own limitations. Which I’m not actually talking about here. You asked me a question, I’m giving you the answer.”

“And I appreciate it,” he says and it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask her more. 

( _Why are you calling me? When can I see you? Have you forgiven me? Is this another distraction? Will you ever ask me to find you?_ )

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he just asks, “And where to next?”

“Hmm,” she sounds as though she’s taken a long sip of her wine and he closes his eyes to savour the sound. “Are mermaids real?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he says, tilting his head to the side, keeping his eyes closed as he listens to her and the rain as it approaches across the water. “Although, I have heard tell of selkies in Ireland, once upon a time. Heaven knows if they still exist or ever did in the first place.”

“Are those the ones who give up—“ She stops talking.

“The ones who must give up their pelts to a human should they ever have the misfortune to fall in love or be seduced?” he says. “The ones who if they ever find their pelts will, without hesitation, return to the sea and leave their human life behind?” He opens his eyes as the first raindrops begin to fall. “Yes, love, those are the ones.”

She doesn’t say anything and wonders if she’s hung up on him, but eventually she says, “Ireland, hunh?”

“You’ll love the smell of it,” he says, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead, but he finds he doesn’t mind at all. “Fresh and green.”

“Sounds lovely,” she says. “Is that rain?”

“It is indeed,” he says as he leans his head back, letting the drops blind him.

“Are you seriously standing out in the rain right now?”

“I’m hardly going to catch my death, love.”

“Yeah, but your phone’s not immortal, is it?”

“Sadly, no,” he says chuckling. “If only.”

“Go inside, Klaus,” she says.

“Worried for me?”

She draws in a breath and says, “Always. Damn you.”

And then she’s gone.

Once again, he’s left with a gaping silence where her voice used to be. His hand curls around his phone until the plastic squeaks and the screen cracks down the middle.

He remains outside in the rain for a further hour.

Damn him, indeed.

* * *

He doesn’t expect her to call him again.

He doesn’t wait for her.

He doesn’t replay their conversations in his mind.

He doesn’t wonder if she’s made it to Ireland.

He doesn’t worry that he doesn’t deserve her.

He doesn’t.

* * *

The amount of relief he feels when his phone rings, once again displaying no caller id, is embarrassing.

“Welp,” she says merrily. “Selkies exist.”

“Do they?” he replies slouching in his chair, his relief is a palpable thing that curls up in his chest and purrs.

“They do,” she says, a touch too emphatically.

“Love, are you drunk?” he asks.

“Possibly?” she says. “Guinness is also a thing that exists.”

“Ah, I see,” he says grinning.

“Lots of iron in it,” she goes on. “Well, especially after I poured some blood into mine. Damn, that went down smooth. So did the next six.”

“You drank seven pints of Guinness in one sitting?” he asks, amazed and slightly horrified.

“Noooo,” she says. “I drank _nine_.”

He closes his eyes in sympathy for the morning to come. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Crap, I’m going to regret the last four, aren’t I?” she asks.

“You are,” he says. “Sleep in the bathtub, darling. You’ll thank yourself for it later.”

“Cheers, mate,” she says giggling and he hears the squeak of a door hinge, then a thump. “Hmm, porcelain. Nice and cozy. Anyway! Selkies. They’re real and they’re scrappers, can I just say. I mean, you need someone who’s not afraid to play dirty and pull hair, they’re your girls. And guys. They’re a few guys, but mostly ladies. We bonded.”

“I can only imagine,” he says picturing her running through crashing waves, her hair a golden fan around her face as she laughs. He imagines that her skin tastes of salt and he burns.

“Turns out the pelt thing is true. Well, sort of. They tend to give their pelt when they fall in love and make their mate hide it,” she says her voice suddenly going soft and sad and that’s the way of alcohol, isn’t it? Flying high one moment, falling low the next. “But, I don’t know… You know?”

He waits, but nothing more is forthcoming. Something like his pride stings as he asks, “Know what, Caroline?”

“The people that they give their pelts to give up something, too,” she says and Christ, does he hear tears in her voice? If she’s fucking crying, he’s going to destroy something. “They give up all hope for any kind of stability. Because as much as a selkie might love someone, the sea is stronger. It’s always so much stronger. I mean, who can compete with the sea? I couldn’t.”

His chest aches and he breathes out, “Caroline… You have it all wrong, love.”

“Do I?” she asks, tears still in her voice, but laced with steel.

“Yes,” he says. “In this case, it’s the sea who couldn’t compete with _you_.”

She’s silent and then she sighs. “Oh, hell. Sometimes I worry that it’s not just my face that’s perpetually stuck at seventeen.”

“Everyone has insecurities, love,” he says.

“Even you?”

“Even me. Mine is currently sitting in a bathtub, drunk off her lovely arse, in Ireland,” he says and feels every second of his considerable age as he waits for her reply.

“Oh,” she says and he wants to yell. 

( _Oh? Did you not know? How could you not know?_ )

“Yes,” he says his hand rubbing across his forehead. “Caroline-“

“What about aliens?” she asks.

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“Aliens,” she repeats. “Are they real?”

He stares at nothing for a moment, then asks, “Are you sure you want the answer?”

“Are you saying you know for sure?” she asks, her voice rising in volume and echoing off the bathroom walls.

“I’m not saying that I know for absolute certain,” he says slowly. “But I have been privy to some information, yes.”

She’s silent for several long seconds and then says, “Where should I meet you?”

* * *

With all the anticipation simmering in his veins, he could have run to New Mexico.

He doesn’t, but it was a close thing.

Instead, he carefully ties up some loose ends, leaves people he mostly trusts in charge, and takes the next flight out.

He waits in a small airfield for her. 

He’s not sure what route she takes, but when a small charter plane lands, he knows she’s on it.

The casual pose he adopts is utterly false and he knows she probably knows it, but he’s a fucking king, he has to keep up some pretences. It flies away on the desert breeze when he sees her and she grins at him.

Her face is still unlined, still lovely, still young, but there is a maturity in her eyes and a sleekness that wasn’t there before. She always dressed to impress, but it’s a bit more streamlined, fitted dark jeans, sturdy heeled boots, dark green sweater, all perfectly fitted to her body. It’s her hair that makes him smile. It’s still wonderfully blonde and thick and full and he wants to bury his face in it.

He doesn’t.

But it’s a fairly close fucking thing.

“Caroline,” he says as she approaches.

“Hi,” she says as she sets down her backpack, she’s still smiling even as she worries her lip. “Oh, hell. I was going to be cool about this, you know. All calm and collected? But fuck it, it’s been ten years and I’m tired of pretending I don’t like you.”

The next thing he knows is his arms are filled with Caroline Forbes as she hugs him. He gives in and buries his face in her hair and breathes in. 

It’s not sexual (although, give him a few seconds and it very well could be), it’s a hug and the affection he feels almost erases the past. Almost.

Eventually, they pull back and as he moves to say something she shakes her head.

“Not yet,” she says. “Tell me about the aliens.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

“Yep,” she says. “Are they real?”

“Well, they do say the truth is out there,” he hedges and she laughs.

“Oh, my God, I knew it!” She beams and it’s nearly blinding. “Deep down, you’re a total X-Files nerd. You’ve been to Comic Con, you have the autographs, admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” he says as he picks up her bag and tucks her hand into the crook of his arm as he leads her to the rental car. “However, there may or may not be one of the original scripts of the pilot episode locked away somewhere.”

She laughs and he smirks and he wants nothing more than to lay her out on the floor of the desert and take her over and over and make her tell him why she called him and why did she never tell him to come after her and why did it take them so bloody long.

But he doesn’t. She clearly has this scripted out in her head and he’s more than happy to play along.

For now.

“So,” she says once they’re in the car. “Where are we headed? I mean, I’m thinking Roswell, since this is New Mexico.”

“You’re thinking correctly,” he says. “However, where we’re going is a few miles outside of the town.”

“Area 51?” she asks.

He smiles and starts the car. “That’s for the tourists.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Good.”

He drives off into the desert night. After a few minutes, she lowers the window and leans her head into the wind. She seems content to sit in silence and he wonders if that’s one of the things that’s changed in her years away. He remembers her being full of nervous energy and while he can still sense that the energy is there, it’s tempered in a way it hadn’t been.

He’s eager to see what else has changed.

Lights appear in the distance and she straightens when an Army base comes into view. He pulls over to the side of the road and sighs.

“Problem?” she asks.

“I'm almost afraid to show you this,” he admits.

“Why?”

“I'm afraid it will disappoint you,” he says.

She smiles. "Life's full of disappointments and anyone who says differently is selling something.'"

“Is that a quote?” he asks furrowing his brow.

“Ugh, we really need to educate you on the classics,” she says rolling her eyes. “Lay on, MacDuff. I can handle it.” 

She opens the car door and he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Sneaking onto the Army base?” she says slowly. “Why? What are you doing?”

“Well, I had planned to walk in the front door,” he says.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she asks with wide eyes that aren’t the least bit innocent.

He grins.

Four hours later, he pulls the car into the drive of a small cabin. The ride from the base to the cabin he’s rented has been quiet with Caroline lost in thought.

He turns off the car and looks over at her. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted them to be real.”

“I'm all right,” she says and when he just looks at her she nods. “Really, I am. And in any case, I’ve read Carl Sagan and what’s that he said? Something about it being an awful waste of space if we’re all alone?”

“’The universe is a pretty big place. If it's just us, seems like an awful waste of space,’” he quotes.

“That’s the one,” she says. “Look, in some ways this brings me full circle. I've always known about man's capabilities for the incredible and for cruelty. To see that all this time it hasn’t been aliens, and just the Air Force coming up with new ways to spy and fly destroy, I’m honestly not all that surprised.” 

She looks at the cabin. “Looks cozy.”

“Would you like to come inside?” he asks.

“I’d love to,” she replies.

A few minutes later, she’s standing at the window watching the sun rise over the desert valley below. Klaus just waits. She’s been building up to something and he’s not about to trample over her thoughts.

“It’s a very big world, I’ve discovered,” she says. “The things I’ve seen.” Her mouth curves up and he wants to trace it with his fingers.

“Good things?” he asks.

“Very good things,” she says before her brow furrows and she adds, “Weird things. Did you know that demons exist? I ran into a weird warlock in Manchester and learned how to vanquish things.” She wrinkles her nose. “Very messy and sulphur stinks.”

“Why did you call me?” he asks before he can stop himself.

She looks at him in surprise. “Because I wanted you to know what I was doing.”

“For your own safety,” he says.

“No,” she says as she turns and leans against the windowsill. “Because you were the one who told me I could in the first place.” She looks down as she shakes her head. “I hate so much the things you’ve done. God, do I hate it. The people you killed. The _friends_ you’ve killed to further your own agenda.”

“If you’re looking for an apology-“ he says through gritted teeth.

She snorts and lifts her head. “Oh, please. I know better than that. It’s just… Forever is a friggin’ long time.”

“Love,” he says.

“I've seen a lot of horrible things in my short life,” she says. “And this journey has showed me even more horrible things. But do you know what has amazed me?”

“Tell me,” he says feeling lightheaded as he watches the rising sun bathe her eternally pale skin with golden light.

“Whenever I find an example of the hatred and the pain, if I look around, I can always, always, _always_ find an example of love somewhere close by,” she says. "I've been looking for the extraordinary, Klaus, because I needed to know how it all fits together. How I can fit on this planet being what I am?" She shrugs. "I thought I'd learn by example."

"And I couldn't be the one to teach you that?" he asks.

"Oh, hell no," she says laughing but not unkindly. "Please, if I had come to you and asked you to teach me everything you know, we wouldn't have left your bedroom for a month."

"A year," he counters automatically.

She arches an eyebrow. "And my point is made for me."

He chuckles as he approaches her. "So, you went looking for the extraordinary. Love, you do realise, it was always closer than you thought. You didn't need to traipse about Nepal looking for it."

"I liked Nepal," she says frowning.

He holds out a hand to her. She eyes it for only a moment, then places her hand in his. He tugs her gently until she stands in front of him, facing a mirror. Klaus stands behind her and tilts her chin so that her eyes meets her own reflection.

"What you see looking back at you is extraordinary," he says, his lips beside her ear. "Your capacity for knowledge and your compassion and your determination. _That_ is extraordinary, whether you're a vampire, werewolf, selkie, yeti or human. You are extraordinary, Caroline."

She stares at her own reflection for a moment, then her eyes shift to his as she starts to smile. "I know that you've had a thousand years of practice, but that was one hell of a line, mister."

"It's hardly a line if it's the truth," he replies.

She laughs and his undead heart stutters as she turns in his arms. "Oh, shut up," she says right before she kisses him.

He responds immediately, hands clutch her close and his mouth moves hard over hers. After several long moments, he pulls back, "Don't do this lightly, Caroline. I'm not one to let go of something that I've craved for decades."

"I know," she says, her voice light but her eyes are serious. "I want this, Klaus." She smirks. "Show me extraordinary."

He grins and then does just that.

Several times, in fact.

* * *

Later, they curl up in front of the fire and Klaus runs his fingers up and down her spine.

“Did you really read my articles?” she asks, curling up on her side to face him.

He nods. “You have a gift for getting to the heart of the matter without losing diplomacy. They were well-written.”

“Thank you,” she says smiling as she shifts to press a slow kiss to his mouth, but she pulls back before he can deepen it, and she sighs. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“Of course, it won’t,” he says and repeats her own words back to her, “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolls her eyes even as she lightly scratches her nails over his hip. “I’m serious. Forever is a very, very, _very_ long time and we both have tempers and opposing opinions on most everything.”

“I do love a good argument,” he says. “And I can admit to a degree of stubbornness,” he ignores her snort, “but I’m not a total dictator, Caroline. I’m always open to compromises.”

“Really?” she asks flatly.

“Within reason,” he says before leaning in to nuzzle her throat. “You aren’t the only one who’s changed in the last decade.”

“You think I’ve changed?” she asks letting him roll her onto her back as he settles between the cradle of her thighs.

“I do,” he says pressing his lips to her collarbone. “You’re…steadier, is the word I might use.”

“I was terrified,” she says, her voice suddenly small and he lifts his head to look into her eyes.

“Of what?” he asks. “Me?”

She nods. “And of what I’d do for you.” She traces the furrow that’s developed on his brow with her finger. “The truth is, I’ve never done very well being alone. It frightens me.” She presses her lips together and then goes on, “I’ve told you the over-arching reason for travelling, but the selfish reason is because I needed to know that I could survive on my own. I needed to know that I could enjoy my own company and find comfort in it.” She smiles. “Turns out, I can.”

“You truly think that my feelings for you are fleeting?” he asks, his grip on her tightens.

“I think that we are destined to fight and argue and that sometimes the answer will be space,” she says. “And although you are the quintessential big bad, you have enemies. Sooo many enemies. They’re like a Hydra. You take one out, another dozen pop up.” She cups his face in her hands. “I hate the thought of you not being here, but I hated the thought that I’d just give up if you weren’t. I wanted to learn how to survive. Not just as what I am; but survive period.”

He stares down at her, his thoughts whirling. He stares so long and so silently, she starts to look worried.

“Have I…offended you?” she asks.

“No,” he says. “You’ve simply done what you’ve always done.” He sits up on his haunches, pulling her astride him so that her sex slides against his cock. “You’ve impressed me, Caroline. But know this.” He curls a hand around the back of her neck and shifts her even closer. “I’ll always give you your space when you ask for it, but I will _always_ come after you. I am, as you say, the big bad, and I protect what is mine and I keep what is mine.”

“You understand that there was no way eighteen-year old me was ready for that kind of commitment?” she asks.

“I do,” he says. “Are you ready now? Be certain, Caroline.”

She rises up on her knees, dragging her centre along his length, and curls her arms loosely around his shoulders. “Did you know that Bigfoot exists?”

He cocks his head to the side as his hands curve under her arse. “Oh?”

“Mmm,” she says as she rocks against him. “Supposedly, he lives in a place called Honey Island Swamp.”

Klaus stops her rocking, his cock millimetres away from where they both want it to be. “That location is remarkably close to New Orleans.”

“Is it?” she asks blinking at him. “How convenient. You’ll have to recommend a place for me to stay.”

He snarls and surges up into her. Her head falls back as she gasps and his mouth finds her throat. 

“I’m sure I can find a spare room for you somewhere,” he says against her skin as they find their rhythm. 

“Hmm,” she says rolling her hips. “I don’t take up much space.”

“You know,” he says in between thrusts, “this Bigfoot of yours may be nothing other than a grungy raccoon.”

“Shh,” she says pressing her mouth to his. “It’ll be extraordinary, you’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> My grandparents lived near the Mississippi-Louisiana border and always told me that Bigfoot lived in Honey Island Swamp. I suspect it was to keep me quiet on long car drives, but who knows?!


End file.
